The first thing Owen thought when he woke was that he'd gone on a bender the night before. A bad one. This had to be the worst hangover he'd had in quite some time. He was feeling disoriented, groggy... hell, he could barely even open his eyes. Christ, had he cleared the corner liquor store of their entire stock?
After a few more minutes of struggling to open his eyes and move his limbs, Owen began to realize he wasn't in bed. Well, not his bed anyway. He wasn't hungover either, if the IV in his arm was any indication. How had he ended up in the hospital? Grimacing, Owen squinted against the sunshine peering through the window. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision enough to get a good look at his surroundings. If he was in the hospital, this was like no hospital room he had ever seen before. He was in a comfortable, king sized bed with multiple pillows. There was a large wood dresser across the room, adorned with a mirror, candles and a few books. To the left was a closet and another door, and near the wide window, where the sunshine still too bright for him to stand, Owen could barely make out the outline of two arm chairs and a round table.
"Hello?" The word came out as a hoarse croak and Owen licked his lips and finally managed to push up on his elbows. The exertion of that small movement was still too much for his weak muscles and Owen fell back against the pillows, a breath rushing out from his lips.
Owen had no idea how many minutes passed then, as he lay there with his eyes closed until his head stopped spinning and he felt more energy begin to seep into his bones. Finally, he opened his eyes again and his gaze rose, landing immediately on the camera positioned in the corner of the strange room. A camera. Something clenched in Owen's gut and he pushed himself up again, ignoring the strain still lingering in his muscles. What the fuck... His pulse picked up and Owen dropped his gaze, finally noticing the box beneath the camera. Despite the sunshine, he could still make out the words Open Me. Seriously. What the fuck.
Aware now that he might be in some serious shit, Owen pushed the blankets from his body and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. The IV pulled in his arm and Owen looked down at it, a sneer forming on his lips. No wonder he felt hungover. He had been drugged. The ID bracelet on his wrist had his name, some numbers... Subject. Subject? Clenching his jaw tight, Owen got to work on taking the IV out. He might have yanked it in anger, but he didn't feel like making a mess on his oh so nice hospital gown. Owen had dealt with injury more painful than a needle, so he barely flinched when he got the IV out of his arm and dropped it on the floor. He took his time standing, more consciously aware now that he was probably being watched. Given the soreness in his legs, Owen had to lean against the nightstand for a few moments until he felt like he could move without falling over.
Once he got to the cardboard box, he pulled open the top flaps and peered inside. His clothes. Shoes. Exhaling sharply, Owen reached into the box to pull out his things. He went through the pockets of his jeans quickly. His phone and wallet were both gone. Cursing softly, Owen looked up at the camera before he tugged the hospital gown off and got dressed. It took him longer than it should have, but he didn't feel completely in control of his body yet, though he was moving much easier than when he first woke.
Where was he? What was this place? Had someone found him, passed out or unconscious? This place was too nice to be a hospital... maybe a rehab center? But why? Owen was in no need of rehab. And how the hell had they gotten him there in the first place? Falling into one of the arm chairs to pull on his boots, Owen kept his face turned away from the window, although a brief glance outside told him why the sun had been so sharp in his line of vision. It was reflecting off the water of a rather large pool outside.
As he tied his shoes, his fingers trembling, Owen tried to think back to the last thing he could remember before waking up here. A woman. Driving home in the early morning hours. That was it. With one last glance up toward the camera, Owen stood and started for the bedroom door. He half expected it to be locked. If that was the case he already had plans to use that small round table to break through the window. But Owen found the door unlocked and he pulled it open cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. He rested in the doorway, his hand pressed against the wood frame. Still feeling out of sorts, Owen waited for the wave of dizziness to pass. To his right was a dead end, a window. Across from him was another door, to his left, a hallway. He saw no one.
"Hello?" Owen called again, his voice more forceful this time. Adrenaline and fear did wonders for a person's survival instinct.